What He Wants is What She Needs

This one comes out on March 14th, but you can pre-order it now.

What He Wants is What She Needs in the anthology

Seven Nights of Sin

Order the Book and read an extract:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

One night, one tryst can change everything... Seven Sensuous stories by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Sabrina York, with bestselling and award-winning authors Maggi Andersen, Lynne Conolly, Eliza Lloyd, Suzi Love, Hildie McQueen, and Victoria Vane. Enter a world of passion and mystery where dashing heroes and dauntless heroines come together in a scorching conflagration that will will tip your world on its end.

LUSCIOUS by Sabrina York
ONE SCANDALOUS NIGHT by Maggi Andersen
THE DEVIL YOU KNOW by Victoria Vane
UNDER A SILVER MOON by Hildie Mcqueen
MY DEAR MR. FORRESTER by Eliza Lloyd
WHAT HE WANTS by Lynne Connolly
PLEASURE HOUSE BALL by Suzi Love

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Excerpt:

Annie let herself dream of something other than the business, her sons and their increased prosperity. She’d thrown herself into the challenge, subsuming all the passion in her nature into achieving it. Somewhere along the way it had become more than earning a living and keeping her family off the streets. It had grown to ambitions of creating quality items for people like her.

But that lay in the future, although this was one step toward it.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Though I would prefer to show it to you myself.” He lifted his hand, as if to touch her cheek, but held it a few inches away. What was she thinking when the urge to meet it took her? She wanted to close her eyes, lean her cheek into his palm and let him take control. Such impulses were foreign to her. To give someone else jurisdiction over her was unthinkable.

A knowing expression entered his eyes, warming and softening their expression. “Perhaps I should show you where I used to sleep in the house. Would you use the same room? Sleep in the same bed? We left it behind when we moved. It should still be there.” Snaking a hand around her waist, he drew her closer.

She didn’t pull away.

“Madam, I find you utterly bewitching. I am about to test a theory.”

His breath heated her skin as he brought his mouth down on hers.

His lips caressed hers, his tongue stroking her lips until she parted them and let him in. His hold on her tightened. Annie flung out her hands for balance, finding purchase on the silk of his waistcoat, roughened by gold threads that snagged against her gloves.

Her comfortable world exploded in heat and desire.

He delved deep, and she responded, her head going back until he dug one hand into her hair, holding her in place. His caresses thrilled her, took her to a place she’d never visited before, never dreamed existed.

Firmly and deeply, he explored her until she moaned into his mouth. A soft thud indicated her hat falling off, and landing—somewhere, she didn’t care where. His fingers rounded her skull, his other hand spread over her back, spanning the distance between her shoulder-blades. He took his time, caressing her with his tongue, building her arousal to a height she couldn’t define.

When he moved away, she pressed closer, urging him on because otherwise she’d have to stop and think.

Thinking was the last thing she wanted to do. Every tenet she had grown up with, every moral impulse her parents had instilled in her, every Sunday sermon she’d endured—all of it told her she shouldn’t do this. But inside, her body awoke, as if from a long sleep.

Why had nobody told her this lay in wait for her?

With a sound suspiciously like a chuckle, he moved away, only to return. He came at her from a different angle, drawing her closer to lay her head on his shoulder, while he kissed her and kissed her.

The initial overwhelming surge of passion settled and receded enough for her to think. The world surged in on her with a rush. When she pulled away he made a sound of protest and drew her back, but she insisted, pushing harder.

He released her quickly, so she had to grab the edge of his desk to retain her balance. She swallowed, staring at him. He spun around, then turned back to her. “I’m not apologizing.”

“No.” He was too arrogant for that. The aristocracy were all the same, demanding without paying the price. But even as she told herself that, the words rang hollow in her head. She was as much at fault as he. “Neither am I. But you should know everything I told you was true. I am a widow, searching for a way to expand my business. I want that house, but I don’t want a lover and I will not pay for the place with my body.”

He closed his eyes in a slow blink. “Are you sure?”

No, she wasn’t. She was far from sure. She couldn’t fit a lover into her life. She’d never had one before, so why should she not continue as she’d begun?

Her mind reeled, until she forced it back under control. “Perfectly sure.” Straightening, she located her hat, which had tumbled on to the desk, and plonked it back on her head. A curl tumbled down and with a most unladylike curse, she removed the hat and dropped it back on to the desk. The surface was covered with papers and cards, which scattered in all directions. “I’m afraid I made rather a mess—”

With a harsh laugh, he scrubbed a hand around the back of his neck, where she’d so recently touched. “It was worse before you started.”

Looking around, she found a mirror, a small, gilt-framed one on the wall by the largest bookshelf. Tilting her chin up she strode to it. Unfastening the strings of her cap, she dropped it on a nearby table. Then she plucked out a pin from her hair, using it to secure the curl. “Not perfect, but with my hat on nobody will notice.”

Silence from behind her. Turning around, she faced him, meeting his gaze. His eyes met hers, stark and honest. “How long is your hair?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Too long. I should have it cut.”

“No, don’t do that.”

His response was so swift and vehemently expressed that it made her blink. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Th-thank you. I think.” Her hair was somewhat—red. She’d tried to control it, and wore larger caps to cover most of it, but it sometimes shone through nevertheless.

“You should never powder.”

Had they gone this far? To exchange remarks so personal? They had missed out some important elements of acquaintanceship. “I can assure you sir, I rarely powder my hair.”

She shook his head, an expression of rueful sorrow curling his lips. “Madam, I’m sorry. You should not be so indescribably attractive.”

“Nobody has called me that before.” Her heartbeat quickened, then stilled back into its regular, steady rhythm. “I hate to call a lord a liar, though. Perhaps I should settle for outrageous flattery.” This time she kept her distance, at least two feet from him. Her heart was still throbbing double-time.

“You are lovely, you must know that,” he said bluntly.

She wanted to drag her hair back until it was completely hidden. “No.”

“Then the people around you are blind.” He leaned against the wall, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Madam, I have a proposition for you.”